


The 16th Companion

by Erestor_Silvertongue



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I will add more tags later., Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erestor_Silvertongue/pseuds/Erestor_Silvertongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin & Company set off on a strictly confidential journey to reclaim Erebor. None but the company and their kin know of their little excursion... Right? So there definitely aren't any sarcastic, prodigal, alarmingly homicidal elves following them. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thorin & Company set off on a strictly confidential journey to reclaim Erebor. None but the company and their kin know of their little excursion... Right? 
> 
> And there are definitely no sarcastic, prodigal, homicidal elves following them. Really. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own middle-earth or any of the characters besides the OC, and I probably never will. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is my first work, and English is not my first language, so give me time. 
> 
> Lots of time. I'll do my best to upload every three days or so, depending on the 16th Companion's popularity. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy and review!

Chapter 1: Unwanted Company

Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was feeling rather disgruntled. More than ‘rather disgruntled’, in fact. ‘Absolutely furious’ might’ve been more accurate. Bilbo couldn’t remember being angrier in his life. Well, except for the time when the old hag Lobelia snitched his mother’s gilded jewelry box. And when she … No. Enough. This was not the time to be indignant about greedy, rude, insulting, %*$@ing Sackville Bagginses, no matter how furious they made him. The fact remained that an entire troop of unknown, uninvited, unwanted dwarves had invaded his poor hole, defiled his furniture and were now trying to make him become a burglar, a nasty thief in their suicidal little adventure. 

But all of Bilbo’s misgivings made way for curiosity at the mention of a quest and at the unrolling of an old map… And returned, full force, at yet another knock at the door. 

“How many of you are there?!”, he demanded, disgruntled. 

But the dwarves did not seem too sure either: They were frozen, shooting wary glances at the door and muttering amongst themselves. 

“I never get any visitors at this time: If it isn’t one of you, I have no idea who it is,” Bilbo clarified. 

Gandalf, unfrozen now, directed the full force of his stare to Thorin. “Who did you tell of this quest, beyond your kin?” 

“No one.” 

Gandalf got to his feet, looming over Thorin and asked again, more forcefully, “Who did you tell?!” 

“No one, I swear!” 

“Just open the stupid door and see who it is!” Exclaimed Ori, the increasingly insistent rapping grating on his nerves… and his wits, evidently. “We can take them!” triggering a burst of forlorn headshaking, exasperated sighs and mutters of “naïve”, “headstrong” and “idiot”. 

“Well, we can,” he protested, seeking to stem this tirade. “What do you think’s there?! Orcs? Elves?!” 

Thorin stood up, in full King Under The Mountain mode. “Yes. Yes,” he growled. “We are not going to a picnic with sunshine and berries and fluffy pink bunnies: We are out to reclaim Erebor, to face the dragon Smaug, and we will encounter who knows what on the way. It is no time to jest, and no time to be careless, to be unassuming, to be the naïve fool you were just now, Ori. An orc or an elf might be exactly what’s knocking on our burglar’s door, and we may be able to destroy them, but not without making a scene and risking discovery. Just shut up, all of you, and whoever’s – or whatever’s - hammering outside might just give up and go away.” 

Bilbo was too busy being awed to object that leaving someone waiting outside a door was extremely poor manners… It was just as well; such a suggestion would’ve earned him a round of withering glares and mutterings much more condescending that what Ori had received. 

After a few moments of (relative) silence, the rapping stopped. 

“You know, if it’s really elves out there, they probably would’ve known we were here already,” Balin remarked. 

“I never thought I’d agree with a Naugrim,” a silky voice purred, reverberating with a dangerous, icy cold undertone that gave even the great Thorin Oakenshield shivers along his spine, “But that one’s right.”


	2. Friend or Foe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and co. discover who their... Visiter is, and find out she has some leverage on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this fanfiction besides Valadhriel and the plotline, yadayadayada. 
> 
> I originally wasn't going to update so quickly, but nobody's responding, so I'm bringing out the big guns. 
> 
> Read, review and, most importantly, enjoy.

Chapter 2: Friend or Foe? 

For a couple of heart-stopping moments, every single soul in the room stood petrified: Horrified, disbelieving, rooted to the ground. The oh-so-smooth, oh-so-silky voice trailed icy fingers of dread down the party’s backs. 

Thorin was the first to unfreeze.“Who are you, and what do you want from us?” he barked, leaping to his feet and drawing a dagger from its hidden sheath, “Show yourself!” 

The voice laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh that only chilled the company more. “Oh, there is no need for that, Thorin Oakenshield. I am Valadhriel Elradiriel-” A ripple of movement from the corner of the room drew everyone’s attention, and fourteen pairs of hands fumbled clumsily for concealed weapons. A lithe figure melted out of the shadows and slipped into the room, one slender hand reaching back to draw back a hood. “-and I wish only to join your… quest.” 

Valadhriel was beautiful, perhaps, in a dangerous way, with sharp, angled features, fierce emerald eyes and sharply contrasting raven hair and chalky skin - if you looked past her narrowed eyes, superior expression and the cruel smirk twisting her thin lips. She radiated power, an air of cold, aristocratic menace and glowed with the silvery light that all her kin possessed. 

Stunned silence reigned in the room for several heartbeats, in which Valadhriel smirked, the dwarves spluttered, Bilbo gaped and Gandalf put on his best thinking/constipated face, until it was shattered by thirteen outraged voices, all complaining about ‘betraying, backstabbing elves, contemplating ‘killing the scum where it stands’ and the ludicrosity of one joining their ‘noble expedition’, as Dwalin very eloquently put it. Gandalf ceased his thinking/constipation and peered at Valadhriel some more. 

He shuffled his feet uncharacteristically nervously and blurted: “You wouldn’t be… You wouldn’t be a Feanorian by any chance, would you?” 

The elf frowned and tilted her head. “No. Haven’t I told you I am Elradiriel? Why do you ask?” 

Gandalf hmmmed internally at the unusually placid reply Most elves, if accused of being a Kinslayer’s daughter, would be offended. One of this Valadhriel’s temperament should’ve flown into a rage. “Nothing. Just a hunch.” 

Gloin scowled. “And anyway, why’re you, a lying, two-faced trai- Er, elf, even interested in this venture?” 

Valadhriel scowled right back. “Believe me, if I had to choose between Sauron and you, Sauron would win, no contest. But my lord wishes it, .

There commenced another energetic round of spluttering. 

Gandalf took advantage of the pause and pulled himself to his feet. “Sauron, you say. Hmmm. Tell me, who is this lord of whom you speak?” 

Valadhriel glared, chin coming up and eyes blazing. “Mithrandir. My people think you wise, but you are but a fool to think my lord, who is none of your business, by the way, to be the Enemy. Elbereth, I am an elf, for goodness’ sake.” 

“Exactly,” Nori muttered, and the now thoroughly exasperated Valadhriel scowled and gave him her Death Glare™. Nori whimpered and shrank back into his seat. 

Gandalf hmmmed doubtfully. “If you say so. Why is your lord interested in this, then?” 

Valadhriel smiled thinly. “Why, for the same reason you are, of course. The riches of Smaug’s hoard are legendary, and there are several items from his treasure trove my lord desires.” 

Thorin narrowed his eyes. “What items?” 

Valadhriel sighed. “Not the Arkenstone, I assure you. Just a few moon-jewels that used to be his until it was stolen by Smaug… Now before you start muttering about my untrustworthiness, will you let me join, or will I have to follow you and kill you in your sleep?” 

“Friendly.” 

Valadhriel grinned. “I know. Now get to the point.” 

Thorin pretended to consider. “Hmm, let me think… No.” 

“Why not? I’m an elf, not an orc.” 

“Exactly.” 

The wall mysteriously developed a gravitational field to the back of Valadhriel’s head. 

“And you’re a dwarf, but you need me.” 

Thorin folded his arms. “No we don’t.” 

“Oh really? You need someone who can read the map. Who can get you through Mirkwood. Who has elven sight, hearing and speed. Who has the resources you need for the journey.” With a flick of her fingers, Valadhriel produced a silken bag out of seemingly nowhere, digging her fingers into it and letting a fountain of darkly glowing gold, jewels and strange elven runes trickle between her fingers and paused dramatically- “And most of all, you need someone who can actually fight.”

Valadhriel seemed to have a talent for making dwarves splutter. 

Gandalf tore his gaze from Valadhriel’s silken bag, and, heaving a weary sigh, admitted “She’s right.” 

Valadhriel just smirked, oozing smugness. “Of course I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Comment or Kudos; I need to judge the popularity of this piece; if it's popular, I'll stick with it before giving in to my (far more insistent) Marvel-muse. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. 
> 
> TBC...


	3. Reluctant Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company set off, and Valadhriel offends everyone but Bilbo, whom she bribes with favours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this fanfiction besides Valadhriel and the plotline. 
> 
> I have scrapped my schedule.

Chapter 3: Reluctant Ally 

Bilbo’s POV

Bilbo Baggins woke to warm sunshine on his face, a soft feather pillow and his comfortable duvet, and sank between his covers with a contented sigh. He twirled a piece of loose thread between his fingers, wondering idly what to have for breakfast… He’d have some delicious fluffy pancakes, with butter and syrup… That is, if his pantry hadn’t been stripped barer than the Northern Wastes by the rampaging horde of ravenous dwarves last night… The rampaging horde of ravenous dwarves! Bilbo’s eyes flew open, the moment of lazy morning contentment abruptly shattered. He all but shot out of bed, feet hammering down the hall, mind already whirling with terrible premonition about the disaster zone previously known as his hole; Oh, how he hoped beyond hope that whatever god watched over frantic hobbits had ensured that at least his mother’s lace doily had survived. 

But as Bilbo emerged from the hallway, heart in his throat and eyes wild, there were no dwarves to be seen. His mother’s doilies – Praise the lord – were fully intact, along with the rest of his treasured possessions. Instead of the raucous laughter or thunderous snoring he’d expected to hear, the room was filled with birdsong. The hobbit stopped short, sagging in relief. Last night’s events must’ve been a very vivid dream. 

But once the crippling relief coursing through him at the absence of any dwarves and the survival of his silverware had abated slightly, Bilbo, much to his chagrin, began to feel some twinges of regret. Shaking off the strange feeling, the hobbit shuddered and fumbled blindly for a distraction… Breakfast! Yes, breakfast. Already salivating at the prospect of pancakes drowned in butter and syrup, Bilbo shook himself and puttered off to his pantry. 

To discover that his larder was full of… Absolutely nothing. 

Gaping in shock, the hobbit ground to a halt. So last night hadn’t been a dream after all! Against his better judgment, he couldn’t help but wonder if they still needed a burglar, his Baggins side and Took side warring in his head. 

Correction. His pantry was almost empty. There was a reasonable amount of elf in it. 

Said elf was currently crouched on the floor, frowning into his shelves and at the mess of squashed food on the ground disapprovingly and munching on a piece of bread in strange leaf wrapping. At Bilbo’s clumsy entry, she turned and eyed him, brushing crumbs delicately from her mouth. 

“Good morning, Mister Baggins, it’s good to see you up, and it was about time too,” Valadhriel drawled, standing smoothly, silver armor gleaming and dark robes swirling. The elf, Bilbo concluded, must practice intimidation in front of the mirror for hours every day. 

She stared down at him condescendingly. “I think you might need this,” and drew a stack of slightly crumpled parchment from her robes, thrusting it into Bilbo’s surprised hands. 

It was the contract that the dwarves had drawn up… And a slip of paper instructing him to meet the dwarves at 11 a.m. sharp. 11 a.m. sharp. 

Valadhriel, echoing his own thoughts, intoned drily “And that leaves you ten minutes to get there.”

Bilbo wailed in dismay. “I’ll never make it!” 

She smirked. “Unless I go catch them for you.”

Bilbo glared at the ground, cursing her arrogance. 

Valadhriel cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. “Would you like that?” she prompted. 

The hobbit started, shaking off his grumpy thoughts. “Um? Oh, yes, yes, I would.”

Valadhriel swung her shield and spear onto her back and stowed her bread into her cloak. She was halfway out of the door when Bilbo said, somewhat awkwardly, “Wait, Valadhriel… Thank you.” 

The elf turned slightly, a corner of her mouth quirking up ever so slightly; A poor excuse for a smile, but the first one (mostly) free of the disdain, hauteur and cool superiority that laced her every word. 

“It is my pleasure, master Baggins.” 

And then she was gone, leaving Bilbo Baggins of Bag End to scramble for his pack. 

~~~ 

Valadhriel Elradiriel was out of the halfling’s hole in a heartbeat and mounted upon Tálaroch and galloping furiously along the dirt path in another, sending gaping halflings scrambling this way and that. 

Perhaps it was a little discourteous draw her knife merely to clear a path through a crowded marketplace, but who cared. The halflings’ – or was it hobbits? The burglar had called himself one – expressions were very amusing indeed, and she didn’t actually hurt any of them. Of course, she was not to be held accountable for trauma. 

Reaching the edge of a leafy glade, Valadhriel took to the trees, barely pausing to greet them and ask permission, Tálaroch cantering just ahead. She leapt from branch to branch, stumbling a couple of times - she’d never had much of an affinity with the Eldar’s leafy cousins - until she spied the dwarven scum a short way ahead, just getting onto their ponies and grumbling about hobbits and elves - and then abruptly whipping their heads around to follow Tálaroch as he galloped past them. 

She smiled in predatory anticipation, and, silent as a ghost, gave a mighty leap and dropped perfectly onto Tálaroch as he screeched to an unapologetic stop just an arm’s-length in front of Thorin’s (considerably alarmed) steed, causing a massive pileup of irate dwarves and panicked ponies. 

Thorin’s face reddened, his mouth opening into a furious circle, chest puffing up in righteous anger. She cocked her head, studying him. He might’ve been just a little intimidating had his mouth not been full of Dwalin’s boot. As it was, Valadhriel only found it comically amusing..

She smiled angelically, and intoned: “My apologies for your fall, Thorin Oakenshield, but I had not thought to compensate for the clumsiness of dwarves.”

The dwarves all burst into all manner of vulgar curses and Gandalf shook his head, and Valadhriel had to raise her voice to add “And here is my contract. Master Baggins is experiencing a minor delay, by the way, and asked me to come here to catch you for him.” 

She had the foresight to toss it directly to Gandalf, over the grasping hands (not occupied with exchanging betting gold) that reached to tear the contract to shreds. 

Gandalf flipped through the contract. “This seems to be in order,” and, ignoring the uneasy glances from the dwarves and the evil glower from Thorin, smiled at Valadhriel. “Welcome to our Company.” 

“Hallelujah.” Valadhriel replied flatly, internally wailing at how far she had fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the sea of mistakes; I forgot the exact details of Bilbo’s contract. :D Oh, and this is my longest chapter yet! (Which isn’t saying much, mind you, but whatever.) 
> 
> TBC…


	4. Dwarves + Elf = Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get Thorin's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this fanfiction besides Valadhriel and the plotline, etc, etc, etc.

Thorin’s heart roiled in his chest, simmering in an ocean of guilt and indecision. Okay, maybe that was just a tad melodramatic. But Thorin was unhappy, his mind churning with questions… Or one question, to be exact. To kick the elf to Mordor and back or not to kick the elf to Mordor or back, that was the question. He tugged on his beard. 

For kicking:   
\- No elf.   
\- No backstabbing.   
\- No elf.   
\- Great personal satisfaction.   
\- No elf.   
\- Possible team bonding exercise!   
\- And had he mentioned ‘no elf’? 

Against kicking:   
\- Uhm. Thorin scratched his head -   
\- Oh, yes. He remembered now…   
\- She has mysterious things that Gandalf needs.   
\- She might prove useful.   
\- She’d go whining about us and our quest to the rest of her irritating kind if we kicked her.   
\- And Thorin hates to say this but He wasn’t sure if the elf was lying about killing them all in their sleep. 

But as the minutes ticked by, a seed of hope began to bud in Thorin’s heart – Maybe the decision would be made for him and Valadhriel wouldn’t come! He beamed, much to the worried astonishment of his companions, which he brushed aside. He’d take no burglar and no elf over elf and burglar any day. 

Such was his anticipation that he barely batted an eye when a great black warhorse galloped past them… But he did a lot more than bat an eye when the brute screeched (and no, he didn’t know that horses screeched either, but apparently this one did) to a stop, it started raining elves and there was a confusing, tangling crash of limbs and horses and beards to the ground as Hloni, spooked, reared up and froze too. But Thorin’s companion’s steeds did not do him the courtesy of stopping and charged right into this unexpected obstacle. 

Thorin squirmed under Bombur’s bulk, his mouth stuffed with someone’s boot. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, he glared upwards at the disgustingly smug elf standing over him and swore to himself that Gandalf or no, Valadhriel was going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC…

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and review! ☺ 
> 
> TBC…


End file.
